


the market on a tuesday

by logictron



Category: The Brave (TV 2017)
Genre: And so do I, M/M, Minor Character(s), because amir needs it, no one is surprised here, this is just cute fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 01:25:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14509458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/logictron/pseuds/logictron
Summary: Amir runs into our Turkish police friend from 1.12. Only this time, he's not Richard Tedison. He's just Amir.





	the market on a tuesday

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when you're talking about future fics and someone (*cough*Lilly*cough*) asks who Amir will be with if not Hannah or McG. She came up with a DIFFERENT answer, which we also plan on exploring eventually. But this wouldn't leave me alone. So here we go, because watching Amir flirt his way into and out of a scene was too good to forget.
> 
> Thank you, as always, to Lilly for the beta. And to all of the Fab 5 for not disowning me every time my brain takes a detour into random land. XD

There's a moment he considers, briefly, turning and walking away. But he's caught up watching. It takes him more than a couple of seconds to figure out that this man--the one picking mangos out of a bin at the farmer’s market--is one he's seen before. Amir is too busy taking in the broad span of his shoulders, the way his forearms flex as he cradles each fruit, turning them this way and that, carrying on a quiet conversation with the woman who owns the stand. 

It's when Amir catches a glimpse of his profile that the pieces of the puzzle fall into place, and then it's too late; he's been caught.

“It's you,” the man says, an easy, slightly enigmatic smile curling on his lips.

Exposed, Amir nods sheepishly, his mind working out a million different ways to play this off, but none of them seem plausible with his heard fluttering like it is. No one’s looked at him like this--warm and enticing--in far too long. Not a man, in any case.

“Your name? Edison?” 

He hardly remembers, himself. The part had been so minor, one of hundreds of covers he’s used throughout his career. In the seconds he fumbles, the smile on the other man’s face deepens. 

“Not CID either?” he guesses off Amir’s silence. “I thought not.” He inclines his head toward the mangos. “Shopping? Good selection today.”

There’s a decision to be made then. Amir could walk away, refuse to engage, and he’d likely never see this man again (and if he did, there would be ample time on his walk back to base to come up with a conceivable cover story), but he doesn’t _want_ to and that’s something unfamiliar. It’s enough to keep him there instead.

“I came exactly for these,” Amir says, stepping closer, finally. “Vegetables, herbs...those things grow more easily. I’m much less apt with fruit.”

“A man of the land,” the detective says, impressed.

“A man of the kitchen, actually. But I make do. Limited resources.”

“Here.” Suddenly, there’s a mango being offered to him, their fingers brushing on the hand off, and Amir feels the back of his neck warming. “It’s nice, no?”

“Beautiful,” he agrees after a beat. “She imports them. From Pakistan.”

“A regular then.”

“I come on Tuesdays after Mosque if I can,” Amir explains, taking just one more mango, flagging the woman to pay.

The man studies him, stroking his chin, faintly amused. “You have a job I cannot name, is that correct?” The way he nods, slightly, in the general direction of the base makes his implication clear.

“Your position suits you well.” If he’s being honest, this man already knowing some of the pieces of the puzzle helps. He doesn’t have to talk his way out of a lie.

“I still don’t have your name, however.”

“And I don’t have yours,” Amir counters, his elbow grazes the taller man’s arm as he pockets his change. He wants to say it’s a calculated move, but it’s not.

“Anarbek Teke,” he says, without any secrecy. It’s a strange thing, realizing this exchange can occur without secrets, without cover identities. 

“Amir Al Raisani.” They shake hands, and that’s strange too--too formal for the intimacy of the fruit stand on a Tuesday morning, a faint chill lingering in the air, making everyone move just a little faster.

“Amir. It’s nice to make your acquaintance.” The way his name rolls off Anarbek’s tongue seeps into him like honey, slow and sweet.

“Would you like to get coffee? I have time.” He feels bold asking, bolder than conning his way into a scene.

“Hmm, yes. Best to make use of the time we both have,” Anarbek replies, and it’s such a thoughtful, logical response that Amir laughs a little, relief creeping in on him.

The cafe on the corner is quiet and quaint and no one spares a second glance at two men tucking themselves into the corner booth. They stay for nearly two hours, the conversation as easy as the silence in between. It startles Amir when it’s the detective’s phone that interrupts them, and he swallows back a chuckle when it’s his date apologizing for ducking out early because of work.

“I understand.”

“Yes.” The corners of Anarbek’s eyes crinkle, his expression softening. “I suppose you do. Still, I have mangos now and no idea what to do with them. Maybe you’d like to show me?”

Amir thinks he’s spent too much time with McG, because every thought that pops into his head is inappropriate. The detective’s brow arches and Amir blushes, clearing his throat.

“Dinner, then?” he recovers.

“A dinner of mangos.” The other man seems to think about it before nodding, sliding his business card across the table, his number circled at the bottom. “I look forward to it.”

Either there is no warning or Amir is just that out of practice, because Anarbek’s kiss comes as a complete surprise. It’s nothing over the top, just a gentle brush of his lips across the table as he gets to his feet, but it makes Amir’s heart flutter in his chest, the way it had earlier at the market.

“Until then, Amir.”

And then he’s alone with a business card and a bag of fruit, and he can’t stop smiling. Walking away has its merits, he thinks, but not today. Today, he’s glad he took a chance on something other than his life. His heart seems like a good trade off.


End file.
